Two Truths

The second time we met, you asked why I liked you the first time.

I said, “because you were wearing a suit.” 

There was a second answer, one I kept in my mouth, 

and that was, ‘because my heart already knew your heart.’

You can’t say that to someone the second time you meet them; 

I’d rather you think me superficial than know how I felt.

I’d rather seem shallow than be vulnerable. You say you love

that I’m open, and I am, but there are always two truths,

and I only ever tell you 

one.

Like when you’re fucking me hard, and you ask

how long you should keep fucking me hard

and I say ‘forever.’

You smile at me, and I smile back, because you think

I’m joking, and I am.

And also, I am not. 

You never had to explain yourself to me; I had your back before we met.

Sometimes hearts 

already know each other.